Captain Trautfizzle stood upon one of the many gated terraces which separated the districts of Orgrimmar, watching as riots and rebel yells erupted throughout the Drag. He looked back for a few seconds to see the relative peace which was being held onto through brutal authority by the Grunts. He had seen people slaughtered in the streets for even a word suggesting a hint of dissent against the Dark Lady. He was a cruel warlock, a man who tortured and enslaved, someone who had conducted experiments which he regretted, but he couldn’t help but find the irony in the fact that he was more interested in taking prisoners and respecting peoples wishes than the people guarding the Valley of ‘Honour’.
He stared for a few moments, clasping his hands, before suddenly he was snapped out of his daze by a hand offering a cigarette. Even from the cheap, herbal brand he could tell who the hand belonged to as he smirked wryly, but the voice confirmed who it was,
“I know you got a built in lighter, this ones free.”
Betti Boomcrank stood beside Jastor Trautfizzle as he lit their cigarettes in a flicker of flames and smoked whilst watching plumes of smoke rise in response from burning dwellings and shops. Betti also looked back for a few seconds, and smirked at the new Captain of the 52nd Division,
“It’s one of the reasons I stood down, ya’ know.”
Jastor raised an eyebrow in response, “What is?”
“It ain’t nothing like home, is it? You know that we both miss Bilgewater Port, we both miss that smoggy city where the bruisers’d only intervene if things got too bloody or public and although we were all constantly whacking and suing each other we all knew that we were all working under the Bilgewater Cartel to stick together…”
Betti gave off a fond smirk, the warlock grinning in response._
“Yeah I remember it, Bilgewater Port, what a city… Then you got this. I joined in again thinking I could progress in my studies, ya’ know? With the Cartels research funding at my back I could achieve great things, and with the Wildcards, achieve so much friggin’ more. Shame we’ve ended up here…”
“Yeah, where order and chaos intermingle, eh?”
They gave each other looks, almost knowing that after everything, Trautfizzle could feel himself, too, falling into the same situation Betti ended up in; a Goblin spurned by his own allies who in the end were more brutal than him most of the time. Most of the time he was either ignored or privy to the conniving actions of Goblins thinking they had escaped the Cartels, but still played every trick in the crooked book to try and please their leaders by showing that the Bilgewaters were brought to heel. It was true, there was little freedom for the Goblins of the Horde and a questionable definition of honour which Thrall spoke of when they escaped the Lost Isles.
“You could just take a different path, ya’ know…”
But all the same, he had taken the job. He hadn’t sworn a blood oath, but he had taken the job as the head of the Wildcards; and when Gallywix said jump, he would always ask how high. The only difference was that he refused to even stand up for other people, no matter how high and mighty they were, all he did, he did to further his goals and protect the Wildcards he’d taken under his wing. He’d taken this job though, and he’d joined the Horde as a result,
“Nah, I think I’m good for now,” he said as Betti reached into her pocket, “I got an image to uphold, can’t turn tail now, huh?”
Betti smirked, “You’ve always been a stubborn one, haven’t ya’?” she said with a chuckle as she slipped a card into Jastors hand, “I’ll see you around hon.” but as she walked off, he seemed to see a glimmer in the details of those grease monkeys who he’d been doing jobs on the side for, but he’d made up his mind.
So with those Battalion soldiers who hadn’t skipped town already, he’d stand as their leader in all of this. For the Horde…
Oh no, she’s come back for revenge! Flees
More ghost noises
Lantara decided she would drink non stop until this war ends. Apparently she was successful
There was no rest for the Prefect this night.
Hours she spent barking orders at her Myrmidons, ensuring their armour and weaponry were ready for battle, steeling them against a potential fight for their lives.
She was exhausted. The threat of rebels within the city, the Valley of Honour, her own ranks, had exhausted her. And now she had worry about that more than ever, in a time when she needed to be awake and vigilant.
Hours she spent, circling the skies upon the back of her amber-winged companion, Mirvaeus, taking flight after flight with the dragonhawk to scout the streets and the borders.
She was angry. She and thousands of others had fought to survive against the Alliance bluecoats, only for the people she fought for, and with, to betray her for the “safety” of the Alliance dogs. It angered her that sacrifices and slaughters could be forgotten so easily.
Hours she spent, debating the outcome of the battle. It was numerically impossible, but what if the rebels did win? What if they took Orgrimmar from the Banshee Queen? Where could she and her Myrmidons go to be safe after that? At least, she had faith in Lor’themar. Her Regent Lord would never side with the mongrels who slaughtered the Sin’dorei in Dalaran. He would never. He would never.
Which rebels in particular?
There’s been a gathering of a few alliance and horde guilds in dustwallow marsh last night, but from what I’ve been told people are planning on making this a more prolonged affair, so I’m not really sure how it’s all gonna go down.
You can add me on discord if you want to discuss a plan, Perroy#9129
Just a question, how’s it gonna go with Sylvanas loyalists now? I’m genuinely curious if y’all still stay in Orgrimmar, or if you perhaps move somewhere else to lay low? And…do Sylvanas loyalist still truly exist if she basically showed middle finger to the Horde including Forsaken?
The new patch has honestly left me with more questions than answers xD
Says the tag is borked, mine is Mythrios#4833 if you wanna add me
it varies, but for a large part the lore says “Banshee called you all nothing and if you say ‘banshee bad’ you are instantly absolved of every single one of your sins”, so I guess that’ll happen with many.
The stinging smoke rose from Apawi’s kiln, and the steam of the glowing waters soon faded from the enchanted coals. A vision of the future, is what she had prayed for. To bring her clarity and wisdom.
Daggers from the south. Daggers from within. Blue snakes slithered towards her. Red snakes shed their scales, to show their true colors: Blue, just as their allies. A moon and a sun, is all the time she would have to prepare. And as the snakes crumbled the order and iron grip she had maintained, their rattled twice.
Two caws of the crows. Two beats of a drum. Two tolls of the bell.
“Ting ting. Ting ting.” it continued, long until after the vision faded. The repetitive rattles, tolls and beats would continue to ring through Apawi’s mind, as she rushed to prepare for something she could not have foreseen.
Is there any update on the plans for RP today, if there are any at all?
It’s a bit confusing in Orgrimmar right now: Some folks are RPing as if the event has happened already, others look like they’re waiting to make the call, until some vague point in time this evening.
I guess this is what happens when such an important event isn’t time-gated 
I believe there are talks atm to make a campaign or event out of it? I’m not sure, that’s the general feel I got from the messages earlier.
We’re just going to do it tonight
Awesome, sounds good to me!
“Will it be ready?”
The orcs eyes met those of the pandaren briefly, before he focused his attention back onto the breastplate.
“Yes- Do you think you’re the only one who comes to me for last minute repairs?”
The smith glowered at the pandaren, pointing at the rest of the blacksmiths working since early hours. The whole of Mithril order and all the rest- The quarter filled with the beating of hammers against metal and grindstones sharpening each and every blade. Sweat poured from their labour over the still glowing red pieces of metal, sizzling away like a blessing of one’s craft.
Shen’s armor was different. It wasn’t covered in sweat. It was covered in blood.
“…Then again, it seems you have had use for it. You haven’t denied it the sweet song of steel and blood.”
Shen stared silently at the work of the orc as the blacksmith peeked at him, lifting a brow before returning to his work.
Shen didn’t move his gaze, his eyes fixated on the worked piece of metal, the dried blood having by now beaten off of it by hammer and heat alike. Only a few more swings, and it’d be over-
“…Who had the honours?” the orc asked, abruptly, as his hammer hit the plate once more, striking out a dent.
“My own kin.” Shen answered, near hesitantly, as if having waited for a chance to confess.
The orc stopped briefly, glancing at Shen, then the rest of the bloodied armor laid beside the workbench.
“Does that bother you?”
Shen rolled his thumbs, straightening himself as he cracked his neck to the left.
“A gruesome death for a gruesome deed. Traitors are traitors.”
“That isn’t what I asked.” the blacksmith snorted, returning his attention to the hammering, before he lift the entire breastplate with the clamps, quenching it in the water as steam erupted into the air.
Shen squinted his eyes, grunting. “What’s one more face among the others to haunt my sleep? At least I have some company.”
The Blacksmith snorted, placing the now cooled breastplate down and briefly busying his hands with the front of his apron. He reached for the helmet of the pandaren, looking it over before walking it over to the bench, sparing the pandaren a glance as he passed him.
“Grim company you keep, pandaren.” the orc quipped, before refitting new rivets for the helmet.
“That’d be the Baron and his men.” Shen quipped back, smirking.
“Yes, I recognized the tabard. A penal unit- What’d you do, then?” The orc yabbed back, placing the front of the helmet against the anvil as he bent out the faceplate back to its proper shape.
“Nothing. I came to the Baron’s employment for gold.” Shen responded, squinting his eyes at the curious orc.
With a single hammer swing, the helmet was back in shape. He placed it down, before moving to the plackard. For a while, he remained silent as he continued his work, Shen studying his work from behind as he sat on the bench, looking briefly to the valley. The Stygians patrolled the street, traitors were dragged out into the ope and executed. The rebels were preparing to siege the city. It’d only be a matter of time now, before all chaos would break loose.
“Not a very honorable position, then.” the orc snorted, hammering out the dents of the plackard.
Shen glowered, fixating his eyes on the back of the orc.
“Loyalty is Honor.”The orc paused, looking over to the Pandaren. “Loyalty to whom?”
Shen rose up, walking over to the orc, half-a-head taller than the greenskin, glaring down to him.
“To my Baron. To my Warchief.”
The orc sized up the pandaren. He batted his eyes slowly, fixating his eyes with those of the pandaren.
“Not the Horde?” the orc responded, lifting his hammer over the plackard.
“Are they not the same?” Shen quipped back, his hands cuffing into fists.
“We’ll find out tonight.” the orc answered, grinning before he turned his back to the pandaren.
Shen stood there, looking down at the wide, broad shoulders of the orc. His thick, muscular neck within arms reach.
His hand finddled with the cheese string wound around his left hand, as he hesitated.
“…Yes. We will.” he answered after a brief eternity. He turned around, taking a seat back on the bench.
“Finish up your work. I must prepare for the siege.” Shen glowered at the orc, rubbing his knees in his annoyance.
“And more.” the orc quipped back.
We’re all on the Orgrimmar wall in preperation for the final confrontation of the fourth war (since some people are roleplaying it having happened off-screen)
If anyone wants an invite, there’s some phasing so PM Skabb
raid 1 is now full. whisper me for raid 2.